Work is Where the Heart is?

Where my heart is

The seventh graders look small to me...but they do every year. They are nervous and hide behind parents, preferring to let them do all the talking. We explain the schedule to them and I know they hear nothing. They are overwhelmed. They look around, eyes as big as dinner plates. The building seems so big!

My eighth graders...their smiling faces greet me in front of the table where I stand. I hear calls from down the hallway, "Mrs. ........ is that you?" They run, yes some of them run, to wrap their arms around me. Others are a little more hesitant, instead waiting for me to make the first move. There is equal adoration and it is genuine. We are glad to see each other.

The eighth grade boys are taller and their voices are deeper. The girls have lost their 'baby fat' and are quickly turning into young women. How is it they change so drastically over just a short time? There are no nerves here. This is old hat to them...they are home. No longer 'sevies', they own the place now.

How is it I was so full of trepidation? This is where I belong...this is what feeds my soul. I just needed a few hugs from some smelly eighth grade boys remind me! I too am home.